Eamonn Duff

WOOLLARAWARRE Bennelong is immortalised in every Australian school history book as one of the first Aborigines to live among white settlers. James Squire, meanwhile, was an ex-convict brewer whose name has recently gained popular currency as a beer brand.

What most people would not realise is that in the early 19th century, these two were best mates. In fact, the history books will soon be rewritten to include the fact that it was this unlikely friendship that could ultimately lead to one of the most significant historical finds of the past century.

Bennelong’s kidnap, as represented in The Taking of Colbee and Bennelong. Photo: Courtesy of Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW

When Bennelong's remarkable life ended on January 2, 1813, not only did he die on Squire's farm along the banks of Sydney's Parramatta River, he was buried in the brewer's private orchard. While the grave was later lost beneath generations of urban sprawl, there is sufficient historical evidence about Squire's acreage and Bennelong's final resting place for experts to finally locate the site, 198 years on.

One of Australia's leading environmental scientists, Dr Peter Mitchell, has gathered archival evidence to pinpoint the grave to a patch of grass in the Sydney suburb of Putney between a family's front lawn and a nature strip.

Mitchell, honorary associate professor of physical geography at Macquarie University, led a covert investigation with Ryde Council to find the site. Not even the home's owners were told.

''I started by gathering all early references in regards to both the nature and location of the grave,'' Mitchell said. ''I then matched them up against the known landscape of the time, and of today … Using old photos, I eventually identified a ground area with a lot of common threads. I then researched, around that, various features and landmarks, some of which remain today.''

Advertisement

Much of the information was conflicting, Mitchell said. ''For example, some early references suggest Bennelong's grave was in James Squire's garden while others point to an orchard. That led me to ask, was there any difference between the orchard and garden, or are [they] the same place? Eventually we found a map that showed they were indeed two separate locations. Other things cross-correlated and suddenly, it was like wow, breakthrough! It was the orchard, after all.''

With Bennelong's bicentenary looming, the find raises issues. Mitchell says it is vital the exact location remains secret because ''the whole question of what to do next is likely to be controversial in the broader community … This is now a significant matter for the Aboriginal community. Consultation is essential. They must decide what they want''.

An obscured detail of the front garden of the home in Putney where Bennelong is said to be buried. Photo: Simon Alekna

Before Bennelong met Squire or any white man, he had been a senior member of the Wangal tribe, who called themselves the Eora, meaning ''the people''.

On November 25, 1789, almost two years after the landing of the First Fleet, Bennelong's life changed forever. Tracking a shoal of fish in Manly Bay, Bennelong and fellow tribesman Colby were captured by colonists, bundled into a waiting longboat and then dragged to the settlement of Sydney. The kidnapping was conducted under the orders of Governor Arthur Phillip as part of a plan to learn more about the Aboriginal people, their language, customs and culture.

In his journal account titled The Settlement at Port Jackson, First Fleet marine Watkin Tench described Bennelong ''to be about 26 years old, of good stature and stoutly made with a bold intrepid countenance which bespoke defiance and revenge''.

Colby escaped within a week, but intrigued by all the attention Bennelong stayed. He proved to be a swift learner and in no time was communicating in reasonable English and adopting what must have seemed like a bizarre series of traditions, including formal dining etiquette. In turn, he taught the settlers the ways of his people and country.

After six months, however, it seems Bennelong had grown homesick. Early one morning, he fled the governor's house and returned to the Eora. But fascinated, perhaps, by the strange world he had witnessed, he maintained contact.

In September 1790, he organised for the governor to visit him at Manly, where Phillip was ambushed and speared in the shoulder. It has always been suggested that the attack may have been prompted by Bennelong as payback for his original kidnapping. Either way, further bloodshed was avoided after Phillip was convinced that the incident was the result of a misunderstanding.

From then on, historians agree, a close, genuine friendship developed between the two men. In October 1790, the Eora moved to the colonial settlement of Sydney under an agreement that ushered in a new era of peace between both parties. No more kidnappings. No more ambush attacks.

Thanks to Bennelong's intermediary skills, the two cultures lived, communicated and traded as one. It was arguably his greatest achievement. It strengthened his standing among his own clan and brought him new-found respect among the colonists, who in modern-day terms practically handed him the keys to Sydney.

Bennelong was now dining with the fleet's elite. Phillip, meanwhile, had a brick home built for him at Tubowgule, now known as Bennelong Point, the site of the Sydney Opera House. The men also exchanged names - Bennelong was christened ''Governor'' while Phillip became ''Woollarawarre'', and later ''Beanga'', meaning ''father''.

In December 1792, after five years as governor, Phillip decided to return to England. Much to Bennelong's delight, he was invited to sail too. The pair apparently arrived in London to much fanfare, their unique bond celebrated as proof that two people from such contrasting backgrounds could be friends.

But as Dr Kate Fullagar points out in her 2009 Aboriginal history study, Bennelong in Britain, historians these days are deeply divided about Bennelong's trip. She states: ''They split between those who claim it was an instance of patronising celebration and those who declare it was more an example of gross exploitation.''

Most available literature portrays Bennelong as a man in his element, a holidaying stranger who indulged in all the trappings London high society could offer. He grew accustomed to wearing ruffled lace shirts and fancy waistcoats typical of the period. While there is debate about whether he met George III, he certainly sat in on several parliamentary debates. He was said to have dined ''as elegantly as the Englishmen, bowed, toasted, paid the ladies compliments and loved wine''. The demon drink would eventually be his undoing.

After growing increasingly ill and homesick, Bennelong farewelled his friend in September 1795 and returned to Australia. Once home, alcoholism consumed him and he ended up being shunned not just by his tribe, but by his new friends.

Exiled from both communities, he moved to the north side of the Parramatta River, between Kissing Point and Parramatta, where, according to written evidence, he became a leader of a 100-strong local clan.

In the same year Bennelong returned from Britain, James Squire moved to the same side of the Parramatta River after being handed a 12-hectare land grant. In the years that followed, the canny brewer bought further plots from struggling farmers. By 1806, he had amassed more than 400 hectares on which he grew hops and set up the first brewery.

While there is no evidence of how Bennelong and Squire first met, historians surmise Bennelong regularly ''wandered'' onto the brewer's property and that over time the pair became good friends. Bennelong later lived on the land. He died at the farm on January 2, 1813, some say after a short illness, others say after drowning in a vat.

Either way, the brewer insisted on burying his dear friend personally and later erected a plaque in his honour. The Reverend Charles Wilton, minister of the parish of the Field of Mars, wrote at the time: ''He lies interred, between his wife and another chief (Nanbarry), amidst the orange trees of the garden.''

A few days later, Bennelong's obituary in the Sydney Gazette was not flattering: ''His propensity for drunkeness was inordinate and when in that state he was insolent, menacing and overbearing.'' One contributor wrote that Bennelong had been ''much addicted to spirit drinking and for the last five months of his life was seldom sober''.

In the time since his death, Bennelong has rested in peace while the world above has changed. A photograph taken of Squire's property circa 1900 is said to show ''the known gravesite of Bennelong'', with a Mitchell librarian having noted on the back, ''very near the right-hand corner was the black man's grave, a slightly raised mound covered with old bricks made in Squire's time''.

The unmarked site was allegedly found again in 1927 by Charles Watson, a descendant of Squire, who was told by his mother about a grave underneath a tennis court behind the brewer's old house.

In the decades that followed, roads were laid down, further confusing Bennelong's location. In 1970, a local man who had visited the site in 1927 with Watson said the grave was now part of an allotment at an intersection in Putney.

Today, a memorial plaque sits in Cleves Park, Putney, to mark the approximate area where Bennelong was believed to be buried. After almost two centuries, the speculation may finally be over.